


Loch & Ness: Coven Crime Conundrum

by Laurenjames



Category: Original Work
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Loch & Ness, Modern Day, Paranormal, Police Procedural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-16 05:37:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21031130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurenjames/pseuds/Laurenjames
Summary: Book 1 in the Loch & Ness series





	Loch & Ness: Coven Crime Conundrum

It was a routine call – or so we thought. A ‘Constable Loch’ had just been assigned as my shift partner, and though her reputation proceeded her, we’d never met before she was transferred in. I was anticipating an awkward night of chit-chat as we patrolled the streets.

“You’re the selkie, right?” she said, stubbing out her cigarette on the roof of the patrol car.

"Jayden,” I said, as she climbed in. She blew smoke out of the open window, then pulled out onto the main road without indicating. “Lyra. Banshee.”

“I know. I heard about your inter-city potions bust last year. Impressive.”

She grinned at me. “Hasn’t got me out of night shifts yet though, eh?”

I settled in, feeling that this tour might not be so bad, after all.

The call came in on the radio at five after two in the morning. “_Papa Charlie 418, can you tell me your current location please?” _

#“Depends what the job is,” Lyra answered. “We’re near McDonalds.”

“_There’s a domestic on Levy Street. Are you free for an immediate job_?”

Lyra sighed, and downed the rest of her coffee. “Yeah, we’re leaving now. Any previous at the address?”

_“None that I can see._”

I flicked on the blue lights as Control filled us in on the call. When I paused at the junction to indicate, I saw Lyra roll her eyes. I’d taken control of the car keys when she made it clear that her driving wasn’t going to improve any time soon. She seemed to find my driving style just as offensive as I found hers.

“ETA, five minutes,” I said.

When we arrived at the call, the house seemed quiet. There were no lights on, but a white van was parked on the drive.

“Can you confirm the house number again for me?” I asked Control.

“_Number seven_.”

“Roger. We’re at the location now.”

“_Do you need a back-up unit_?”

Lyra and I exchanged cautious glances. There was a strange feeling niggling me, but I couldn’t work out what was ringing alarm bells. “No, I think we’re okay.”

I was about to knock on the door when a voice said, “I think you’re here for me, officers.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin. I pulled out my torch, shining it into the darkness. A man was standing motionless under the shadows of a tree.

“Are you all right, sir?” Lyra asked him, while I recovered from the shock.

“Quite.” He cleared his throat, and stepped closer, out of the darkness. He was at least six-foot-tall, Caucasian, mid-thirties with dark brown hair.

“Now, relax,” he said. “This won’t hurt a bit.”

Lyra and I didn’t have time to react as someone grabbed us from behind and dragged us into the back of the van. I struggled against them, but a hood was pulled down over my head and something tight was wrapped around my arms and legs. I kicked out, but a heavy force pinned me to the floor of the van. I could hear Lyra hissing, fighting to break free, as the engine started up and the van pulled away.

I realised then what had set off warning bells, when we had arrived at the scene. The van had no number plate.

Our radios buzzed: “_Papa Charlie 418 for a welfare check_.”

My radio and equipment were tugged away from my belt and thrown into the road. I heard my garlic spray explode as it broke, the crack as my police-issue wooden stake hit the tarmac. In a panic, I ran through the standard procedure in my head, trying to work out what to do. After approximately fifteen minutes, the van came to a stop.

“Lyra?” I whispered, after a long moment of silence.

The hood was pulled off my head. I blinked in the sudden bright light.

The man from the shadows tilted his head, staring down at me. I noticed fangs jutting from his upper lip. Vampire? Werewolf? Something worse? I wished I still had my silver handcuffs.

“What do you want with us?” I asked. I sounded formal, like I was about to begin a contract negotiation. There was no fear in the words at all.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Constable Ness.” I paused, and then kept going. You’re supposed to humanise yourself, so they see you as a person instead of an object. It makes it harder for them to kill you. “I’m twenty-six. I’ve got a sister, and I live with my parents. We’re -”

“That’s enough.” He ran a clawed thumb down my face, and I shivered.

“If you’re after a ransom,” Lyra began, “Our insurance will cover it. You’ll get it, no problem. You don’t need to hurt him.”

“I’m not here for a ransom. I want your skin, little selkie.”

I blinked up at him, the breath caught in my throat. They were here for my sealskin? Was he a warlock, then? Did he need a selkie coat for some kind of spell?

“It’s not – I don’t-” I stuttered, caught by surprise. “I don’t have it here with me. And I wouldn’t give it you, even if I did.”

“Oh, Constable Ness. I’m afraid you don’t have much of a choice.”


End file.
